


the only heaven i'll be sent to is when i'm alone with you

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crowley Was Not Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Crowley was Kokabiel, M/M, Pre-Fall (Good Omens), Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 15:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21164078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale met each other before their time together on Earth.  They knew each other very well, in fact.





	the only heaven i'll be sent to is when i'm alone with you

**Author's Note:**

> the title is from take me to church by hozier, because that line, ouch!   
also dang what do you even do when you're chilling in heaven??

Kokabiel doesn’t particularly like heaven, but he shoves that deep down inside of him because he knows that all angels are supposed to rejoice in the presence of the Almighty. And he does! Love the Almighty, that is, but the other angels… there’s a coldness in his fellows that makes Kokabiel uneasy at times.

“Kokabiel, I Have An Assignment For You.”

And he looks up from his harp and finds himself in God’s throne room. There are other angels there, largely ones that he recognizes. Having everyone staring at him intensely like this is intimidating; while God’s tone is as gentle as God ever gets, he feels like he’s been judged and found wanting.

“I’m happy to serve,” Kokabiel says, voice wavering just a touch.

“The Skies Are Too Empty. You Will Leave Tomorrow To Create Stars To Fill The Skies With Beauty.”

Before Kokabiel can say anything, a strand of heavenly light reaches out. It caresses his face gently before pressing into his temple. 

There’s an uncomfortable shove into his brain as the knowledge of how to grow the stars is forced in, and while it doesn't  _ hurt _ , it makes his stomach whirl uncomfortably. 

"Couldn't you have told me how?" Kokabiel asks, hand pressing against his stomach to calm himself. It’s not said unkindly or even particularly harshly, just as a reaction to the discomfort. 

He realizes that everyone is staring at him as if he’s said something terribly rude, so he bows low. “Thank you for the honor.”

“You Are Dismissed.”

And, he’s dismissed.

* * *

Kokabiel doesn’t really have anywhere to go or anything to do while he waits to depart for the skies. Sometimes he spends time with Lucifer and his gang, but mostly, he doesn’t enjoy them that much. A few times, he’s spoken with an angel by the name of Aziraphale, who is different than the other angels, but they don’t know each other well enough for Kokabiel to go to him. 

His head is still sore from the information that he was given by the Almighty. He presses his hand to his temple and tries to sort through the information. It’s so  _ much _ and his head feels as though it will burst.

“Are you alright?” a soft voice asks.

Kokabiel looks up to see Aziraphale looking at him with crossed brows.  _ Oh _ . He’s looking at him with an expression that he can’t quite read.

“It’s just a lot,” Kokabiel says. “A lot of information. But I am grateful!”

“Would you like some help?” the angel asks. 

Kokabiel nods slowly. He’s not sure what’s happening, and he’s a bit uncertain when the angel rests a hand against his skull. There’s a rush of miraculous power and the pain clears up, making in easier to sift through the knowledge that’s been implanted in his head.

Aziraphale’s hand lingers for a brief moment before pulling away, and Kokabiel has to resist the urge to follow it. 

“Thank you,” Kokabiel says. "That feels so much better."

And he realizes that Aziraphale is looking at him with kindness. Oh.

"It's a shame you're being sent so far away. The better to serve Her Glory, of course, but still. It might be lonesome," Aziraphale says. 

_ Heaven already is lonesome. _

But Kokabiel knows he can't say that. 

"At least I'll be able to see more of creation! And have a hand in creation myself, " Kokabiel says earnestly. 

Aziraphale struggles with a smile. "Yes, I suppose that that will be nice for you."

Kokabiel realizes that Aziraphale is going to miss him, even though they’ve only talked a handful of times. It gives him a thrill in the pit of his stomach; he's never been missed before. 

"I'll be thinking of you,” Kokabiel dares with a smile. “When I’m making the stars, I mean.”

Aziraphale turns red at his words, not quite looking at Kokabiel. “Oh! Oh, that’s very sweet of you. I’ll be thinking of you here, too.”

“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but when I come back, I’ll come see you,” Kokabiel says. 

“I’d like that,” Aziraphale says. 

They linger together like that for a long moment, just a bit closer together than may technically be considered proper. Kokabiel isn’t sure what’s happening in this strangely charged moment, but before he can lean into the tension to figure it out, Aziraphale presses his lips together and pulls away. 

Kokabiel watches him go, confused by the colliding thoughts before he jolts himself out of it. 

Surely, surely he can find something else to do.

* * *

There is true beauty in creating the stars. In feeling the tension in the whole of the universe and pulling light and heat and intensity through it to create the bright and beautiful stars. It takes time to do it properly, but he can feel the strength between his palms as he works. He encourages them to grow as large as they please. 

When he’s done crafting each star, he gets to thread the planets around the stars, setting them spinning on their new paths. He carves out a track for each one, carefully precise in his work.

Sometimes, the stars seem lonely, even with the planets around them, so he’ll give them another star to befriend. He finds the binary star systems just so beautiful. 

He knows his mind should be on the Almighty and the breadth and wonder of Her creation (well, isn’t it really his creation? Since he’s the one making it? At least partially? Something to pray on), but he’s distracted by thoughts of Aziraphale. 

The other angel is different from the other angels he’s run across. He’s softer, somehow. There’s kindness in him that’s unusual. It’s different, talking to him versus talking to any of the other angels. He turns the thoughts around in his mind as his hands are occupied with the process of creation. 

Time doesn’t really exist yet, so he doesn’t know how long it is until he feels that pull back to heaven. He finishes the star that he’s working on and pulls himself away from his work to return home. 

* * *

“You Have Been Asking Many Questions.”

“Yes.”

“You Are Dismissed.”

* * *

Aziraphale tries not to think too much about Kokabiel while he’s gone off. He’s very pleasant to look at and a little strange, but in a nice way. They’ve only ran across each other a few times, but every time, it’s been quite pleasant. The angel is… something altogether different from his other compatriots. 

But Aziraphale definitely! Doesn’t! Think! Of! Him! At! All! while he’s gone. Instead, he busies himself with writing heavenly praises to God. That’s holy enough, even if he doesn’t quite have the rhythm of it yet. 

(Part of him wonders why he hasn’t been selected to do anything special for the Almighty)

“How is the hymn writing going?” and he turns around to see Kokabiel standing in the doorframe. “Heavenly, I’m sure.”

“Kokabiel!” Aziraphale is delighted at the sight of his fellow angel. “How was your time in the stars?” 

“It was… incredible. I love the feeling of the stars in my hands and designing the layouts of the planets," Kokabiel says. There's a light in his eyes that Aziraphale can't look away from, and the smile on his face is infectious. "I did miss you, though."

Aziraphale's cheeks heat up under his gaze and his angelic form is… lighter than usual. He feels lighter. 

“I missed you, too,” Aziraphale admits. “I wish I could go out there with you.”

“Maybe next time,” Kokabiel says brightly. 

“Maybe…” Aziraphale says doubtfully. 

“What’s wrong?” Kokabiel asks. 

He crosses the space between them, so he’s close enough that Aziraphale can see the flecks of gold scattered across his skin and tangled in his hair; they’re beautiful; he’s beautiful. Aziraphale wants to memorize each fleck. 

“I just… don’t know if i’m ever going to be picked for something special like making the stars,” Aziraphale says. There’s a pause before he remembers to add, “but I know the Almighty has a plan that’s good and right!” 

Kokabiel presses his lips into a thin line. “I mean, you are a principality. That can’t be a mistake. You’re… you’re  _ Aziraphale _ . I think you’re wonderful, and I’m sure God does, too.” 

Aziraphale brightens at that. 

They talk like old friends for what could be an eternity, the harmony that Aziraphale was going to create forgotten like so much dust.

* * *

Kokabiel can’t stop thinking about Aziraphale. The angel is so kind, so handsome. He thinks about the pure golden curls when he’s supposed to be contemplating the gifts of God; he thinks about the softness of his form, the gentle curve of his stomach, when he’s supposed to be coming up with new ways to glorify the Almighty; he thinks of his bright smile, the curve of his lips, when he’s supposed to be contemplating the next star formations he’ll make.

Well, at least that last one isn’t entirely off base. He can make stars to remind him of Aziraphale, even if they’ll pale in comparison. 

Aziraphale crosses his mind so much because, from what Kokabiel can tell, he’s the best of the Almighty’s creation. The others are cold, unfriendly, and they make him feel alone, especially when he has questions that nobody can answer.

Aziraphale may not have the same questions, or even understand why he’s driven to wonder so much, but he never makes Kokabiel feel foolish or irritating for having questions. He’ll listen and try to give some sort of answer, if he can. 

He makes Kokabiel’s form feel light, like he could float even without his wings. It’s something he tries not to think about too much. 

(Why can’t he feel this way about God? Is this what you’re supposed to feel for God? It feels like it should be, but also, he can’t imagine feeling this way for anyone or anything else.)

(Love. It’s love.)

(He half admits it to himself, half pretends that he didn’t have the thought; even though, Aziraphale is all he can think about)

* * *

Kokabiel visits Aziraphale regularly. One day, when he enters Aziraphale’s dwelling, the angel is maintaining his wings. He watches him work for a long moment; Kokabiel usually just miracles his wings clean when needed, but watching Aziraphale work, the stretch of his muscles and the nimble care of his fingers, makes Kokabiel reconsider.

There reaches a point when Aziraphale can’t quite reach the feathers, and Kokabiel steps forward. 

“Would you like some help?” Kokabiel helps. 

“Oh!” Aziraphale jumps and turns around. “Hello, Kokabiel. Thank you, yes, that would be… very nice.”

Kokabiel is inordinately pleased by this as he takes up position behind Aziraphale. Moving carefully, reverently, he straightens out the feathers that are crooked and runs the damp cloth that Aziraphale provides over his wings. He’s silent as he works, hyper aware of every intake of breath and every twitch of Aziraphale’s muscles; he wants to make sure not to accidentally hurt Aziraphale.

Aziraphale is reacting curiously, however. His spine is unnaturally rigid and his breath comes in short gasps. It doesn’t quite sound pained, but he doesn’t really seem relaxed either. 

“Are you alright?” Kokabiel asks after a few minutes of this. 

His hands are resting on the curve of Aziraphale’s wing right near where it connects to his back, so he can feel Aziraphale’s little shudder at his words.

“Oh, oh yes,” Aziraphale says in a soft voice. “I’m just not quite used to someone else touching my wings.”

“Am I doing it wrong?” Kokabiel asks, craning his neck as best he can to look at Aziraphale. 

“You’re doing wonderfully,” Aziraphale assures him, turning to smile. 

Aziraphale has shifted in such a way that part of his wing is glancing over Kokabiel’s cheek on accident, and Kokabiel inhales softly at the jolt in his gut. 

“Okay,” Kokabiel says when he regains his composure. “I’ll, er, get back to it, then.”

Aziraphale turns back around, wings brushing against Kokabiel one last time. Kokabiel’s composure slips again, but then he’s back to work.

He concentrates on the feeling of Aziraphale’s feathers against his fingers, how they slide, so gentle and soft. He’s also delighted with how Aziraphale slowly begins to ease into his touch. His shoulders relax and his back curves, no longer ramrod straight. 

His breathing relaxes, too, now coming in a deep, even rhythm. It’s a beautiful sort of music, a kind that Kokabiel has never heard before but wants to listen to for an eternity.

Kokabiel takes his time because he would like this to last. He can feel the celestial warmth radiating from Aziraphale and is certain that he’s not the only one enjoying himself. 

“You’re all set,” Kokabiel can’t hold off any longer. “Your wings are all groomed.”

Aziraphale inspects his wings, twisting a bit, before turning to face Kokabiel with a radiant smile on his face. 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale says. “I appreciate you taking the time to help me.”

“I’m happy to help,” Kokabiel says. 

They linger like that for a long moment, Kokabiel not sure what to say next and not wanting to leave. 

“I’m glad you stopped by,” Aziraphale says. “It’s always nice to have your company.”

Kokabiel doesn’t know what it means that those simple words make his heart soar higher than anything he’s felt in the presence of God. He really doesn’t.

(He’s never thought of himself as a blasphemer, a heretic. His questions are because he wants to understand, not argue. But if his love for Aziraphale is heretical, then… well. He loves Aziraphale)

* * *

_ Hey God, it’s Kokabiel. Well, I guess you knew that. Well, I guess you know everything I’m about to say, even if I don’t. That makes praying kind of useless, doesn’t it? Unless it’s more for me than for you? But why not just say that? _

_ I guess I’ve just been thinking about Aziraphale, an awful lot. Being around him makes me happy, making him smile or laugh makes me even happier. It’s different than with anyone else around. He’s just so different from everyone else, and I feel good when I’m with him.  _

_ I know he’s one of your newest angels, but he’s certainly your best creation. Thank you for letting us meet. Amen. _

* * *

“Kokabiel, I Have Heard Your Prayers. Your Questions.”

“And?”

“Go Make More Stars.”

“Oh… Okay. I just have to see-”

“Go Now.”

* * *

It’s strange to be punished with something you enjoy, Kokabiel thinks as he shapes the stars. The abruptness of God certainly felt like punishment, and he wonders what wrong he has done. 

But God would never be so fickle and uncaring. Would She?

He's consumed with anxious thoughts as he works. He doesn't like it. 

* * *

Aziraphale is consumed with anxious thoughts of his own. Kokabiel has just… disappeared. There’s no discreet ways to make inquiries about him, but Aziraphale wants to know where he’s gone. 

Most likely, he’s been sent off to make more stars. Or.

Or.

Grown tired of Aziraphale’s babbling. Decided that he would rather spend time with the other angels. He knows that Kokabiel also spends time with Lucifer and his gang. Not so much because he likes them, Kokabiel had confided, but because they also have questions of God. 

Aziraphale isn’t good at questioning; he likes listening to what Kokabiel has to say, even though it sometimes makes his chest feel tight, but he’s not good at having questions of his own. He doesn’t want to have the conflict that Kokabiel seems to have. He  _ knows _ the Almighty is correct, and that’s enough for him.

But maybe he’s not enough for Kokabiel. 

(Maybe it’s better if he never sees Kokabiel again because-)

He can’t even quite think it, even to himself.

(-sometimes he-)

No.

He feels strangely desolate, now that Kokabiel is gone. It’s much worse than last time. They know each other well now, and Aziraphale has grown comfortable with his presence. Used to it. 

(-wonders if just maybe-)

And while he’s mulling over his unhappiness, God summons him to her heavenly chambers.

He’s never been in her private chambers before, where it’s just the two of them with none of his heavenly brethren around. It’s both a relief, because he won’t be subjected to their scorn, and terrifying, because it’s the kind of thing that happens so rarely.

“Er- hello, God,” Aziraphale says, trying to sound happy and comfortable as he cranes his neck uncomfortably upwards to look at the blinding ball of light that is the Almighty.

“Hello, Aziraphale, My Precious Angel. You Have Been Unhappy Lately.”

It makes him feel suddenly sick-feeling, deep in his stomach. Panicked. Angels aren’t supposed to be unhappy.

“Oh, uh, I’ve just been under the weather!” Aziraphale says, and then realizes that weather hasn’t been invented yet. “Or, something like that.”

“Would It Be Better If Kokabiel Returned?”

(-he loves-)

Aziraphale inhales sharply, a rush of emotions flooding through him. Kokabiel didn’t tire of him, but God  _ has  _ noticed their closeness. She doesn’t seem too upset though. Curious, more than anything else. 

The thought of seeing Kokabiel again makes the nausea subside, even as it makes his heart beat rapidly. Even if he doesn't have a heart yet. 

He nods, not quite able to speak.

(-Kokabiel-)

“Hm.”

The syllable stretches to eternity, and Aziraphale waits with baited breath for what God will say. 

(-more-)

“You May Leave, Aziraphale.”

And Aziraphale deflates a bit, not sure what that means. As he leaves God’s sanctum, he has the feeling that he failed a test that he wasn’t aware that he was taking. Maybe he failed it on Kokabiel’s behalf, too.

(than anyone.)

(More than God.)

Now that he’s had that thought, in its entirety, he can’t stop having the rest of them.

(Kokabiel never makes him feel dumb or worthless or off kilter in a sick sort of way, only in a good feeling way. He makes him feel safe, taken care of. It feels good to be with him. It feels good when Kokabiel cleans his his wings, or even when he lays around and offers wry suggestions on the hymns that Aziraphale is trying to dutifully compose. Kokabiel made him realize what love should feel like. He loves him he loves him he loves him he loves him)

He curls up, folding his wings around himself to block out the light. This makes him bad, bad, bad, he’s certain, even if he doesn’t understand how love can be wrong. 

The despair lasts for a long moment until-

* * *

“Aziraphale?” 

Kokabiel finds the angel curled up in a corner, wings encircling him, as if he’s been wounded. He rushes over, placing a hand on his wing and crouches by him.

“Kokabiel…”

Aziraphale looks up at him with wide eyes, as if he’s never seen him before. It’s been so long since they’ve seen each other, and Kokabiel is taken aback by how handsome he is. The curls of hair framing his bright eyes, the soft roundness of his face and of his body, the gentle way his hand is stretching towards Kokabiel… every bit of Aziraphale draws him in.

Angels can feel love from others, or so Kokabiel has been told. He’s never really felt anything that stands out as love. The conclusion that Kokabiel had uneasily come to was that there’s just a constant level of love around heaven, such that it’s become background noise. Or that it’s just not true.

But Kokabiel realizes now that he can feel love; heaven is not full of love; he can feel it pouring off of Aziraphale’s body, and it is different from anything he’s felt. It’s breathtaking the sheer ardor and warmth that the angel feels for him. The warmth sends shivers down Kokabiel’s spine, spreads right down to the base of his being. 

Kokabiel wants to be closer.

“I want to do something. Is that alright?” Kokabiel asks.

Aziraphale nods. “Oh, yes.”

Kokabiel cups Aziraphale’s face between his hands, careful, as if holding something precious that couldn’t be fixed with a stray thought. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, not really, so he takes a moment to memorize every bit of Aziraphale’s face in case this goes horribly wrong, and Aziraphale never wants to see him again.

Moving slowly, carefully, he presses his lips to Aziraphale’s. There’s no reason to do this, except it seems like the best way to be closer to him, and the bursting of love that he feels across his entire existence lets him know that he did something right.

Aziraphale pulls himself closer to Kokabiel, the warmth seeping into the deepest bits of Kokabiel’s being. There is something in him that he didn’t know needed warming that’s being warmed now, and Kokabiel thinks he understands what the term “religious experience” means. 

“Was that alright?” Kokabiel asks when they pull away. 

Aziraphale answers by pressing the whole length of his form against Kokabiel’s. The edges of themselves start to blur together, and he cannot believe that he gets to experience this with Aziraphale. They’re as close to being one entity as two entities can be, and Kokabiel loves Aziraphale all the more for allowing him this gift.

How long he stays there, basking in Aziraphale’s presence, he couldn’t say. But when he does finally leave, he feels different. 

Kokabiel has created stars with his hands. He’s shaped their paths through the endless voice of space, nurtured them to grow strong. It is marvelous, bright, special… he had assumed that nothing else he would do would compare. 

But the bright light that he’s now carrying inside of him from Aziraphale outshines the stars. He feels nearly made anew, made better than before. It’s invigorating and intoxicating, and while Kokabiel has never been one for hymns, he has the sudden desire to write one. To write thousands. 

* * *

Aziraphale watches Kokabiel float away, inhaling sharply. It had seemed so simple and right to draw Kokabiel into himself, at the time. He could feel the love radiating from Kokabiel, could feel his want reflected back at himself. It was the simplest thing to do to find Kokabiel’s thin waist and pull him close. To bring that source of love to himself.

But now he’s left wondering if, by indulging this love he has for Kokabiel, he’s done something wrong.

It was much easier when Kokabiel was here with him, so Aziraphale didn’t have to listen to the resounding sound of his own thoughts. 

That God can hear his thoughts isn’t reassuring.

He wants to chase after Kokabiel because he knows that Kokabiel’s doubts about everything will soothe his own doubts about this. Not because he agrees with him or can even bear to decide if he agrees or not, but because when he’s with him, Aziraphale’s love has always grown stronger.

But it would be foolish to chase after Kokabiel. How would he explain it? He can’t just hang around Kokabiel constantly for the rest of existence. (Can he?)

He goes back and forth about what to do for a while when his thought is interrupted by the world shaking underneath him. His first thought is of Kokabiel, and he rushes to try to find him, flying up to try to get a better look.

But he’s interrupted by God’s voice, which freezes him in place, suspended in the sky. He can look down to see smoking craters where there used to be smooth white office space, and the contrast is startling. 

“Enough! Lucifer- You And Your Brethren Will Disperse At Once Or Perish.”

It’s been some time since God has left Her sanctuary, blessed them with her righteous presence. The Light Of God is painfully bright; Aziraphale feels as if he’s being burned from the outside in. 

There’s a scuffling noise, but The Light is so bright that Aziraphale can’t be seen. Every bit of him hurts, every single aspect of his form is in a sudden burst of absolute agony, which he didn’t even realize he was capable of feeling before now. 

He wonders if he’s dying; he wonders if he’s falling; loudest of all, he wonders where Kokabiel is in all of this. If he’s afraid, if he’s safe, if it would be possible to reach for him despite the agony. 

(The brightness he felt from Kokabiel is so different than what he feels from God. He can’t imagine Kokabiel ever hurting him like this, even as an accident, even in the course of doing something else.)

For the first time, when he tries to extend his will to do something, it doesn’t happen. Kokabiel doesn’t appear beside him. He doesn’t appear by Kokabiel. He remains so alone in this eternal moment of agony.

And then it’s over, and he’s crumpled to the ground in too much pain to move. 

“Oh, Sorry My Children.”

And he’s no longer in physical pain. But he still needs to find Kokabiel. He takes to the skies once again, searching for Kokabiel with a growing despair. 

* * *

God watches Aziraphale as he searches heaven, curious about the actions of this angel. He keeps looking and keeps looking for Kokabiel. Well, She can at least soothe him. She is so great and merciful.

“Kokabiel Has Fallen.”

She announces this to him while he looks in some far flung corner of Heaven that he has searched seven times already. He is alone, and She expects that he will drop to his knees in gratitude.

Instead, he stops and looks up at her, horror written on his face.

“What?”

“Kokabiel Has Fallen. You Can Stop Your Search. It Is Fruitless.”

His face falls, and She peers into his heart and feels pain rolling off of him. Curious.

“How? Kokabiel was so kind! So loving!” Aziraphale says.

Even more curious. The defect in Kokabiel seems to have spread to Aziraphale through their contact. So many questions, such curiosity- She hadn’t realized it would be such an irksome trait.

She doesn’t answer because She doesn’t have to, withdrawing to watch Aziraphale a bit more discreetly. From her observations, he’s just useless now. He won’t stop making these pathetic crying noises. 

Aziraphale keeps circling his allocated space, not doing any good and not paying her any due. It is, quite frankly, a waste. She would send him down to Hell if She didn’t think it would be rewarding him for bad behavior.

Then, she comes up with a benevolent solution, for She is a benevolent god. 

* * *

Aziraphale paces forlornly. Angels are supposed to be joyous creations, but the source of his joy is gone. Angels are supposed to derive their joy from God, but that is not the source of his joy. 

More than that, he doesn’t know what happened to those that rebelled. He knows they still exist, but what exactly falling from God’s grace entails, he doesn’t know. The thought of Kokabiel being hurt or upset isn’t something that he can contemplate for long before losing all sense of hope.

“Aziraphale. I Have Seen Your Despair, and I Have Come To Give You A Gift.”

God has appeared beside him, and Aziraphale perks up at Her words.

“You’re bringing Kokabiel home! Oh, thank you!” Aziraphale says.

He spreads his wings, flipping in a lazy loop in his excitement. He can see Kokabiel again! Kokabiel won’t be stuck in Hell! Oh, wonderful!

“No.”

Aziraphale stops. He frowns.

“What?” Aziraphale asks.

“I Am Going To Relieve You Of Your Memories Of him. No More Will You Be Troubled By Thoughts Of The Demon Crawly.”

Aziraphale shakes his head, horror growing. Losing the memories he has of Kokabiel, of love is a horrifying thought. 

“I’m sorry, God. I’ll be better! Please don’t take him from me altogether! Please!” Aziraphale begs.

“Do Not Worry.” Her voice is soothing, but her words are not. “This Will Be Painless. You Will Not Remember Anything About Him. You Will Be As You Were Before Him. As If You Never Met.”

Aziraphale hadn’t even realized how unhappy he was at that time. He hadn’t even realized what love or happiness felt like. To go back to that! No! He won’t! He can’t! He doesn’t know what Falling entails, but he would rather Fall.

Aziraphale runs.

* * *

God tilts her metaphorical head as one of her angels tries to flee. Oh, what a poor, wretched little creature. 

“Do Not Worry. It Will Be Over Soon.”

God surrounds Aziraphale with heavenly grace to hold him in place. The poor little creature still tries to struggle and fight.

“Oh, Aziraphale, My Precious Angel, Your Suffering Will Be Over Soon. Hush Now.”

God draws Aziraphale close to Her, right into Her sanctuary. She puts him to sleep to prevent him from hurting himself. 

Carefully, She picks through his memories. Unfortunately, the demon features prominently in many of them, even after he was dispatched. Well, She knows the best way to deal with that!

* * *

Aziraphale comes to consciousness slowly. He was… what was he doing? He can’t remember.

“Do Not Worry, Aziraphale. You Are Okay.”

“What happened?” Aziraphale asks. 

Aziraphale realizes that he’s in God’s inner sanctum. His head is pounding, and his whole form feels… strange. 

“You Were Hurt By A Demon. I Have Fixed You. You Are Safe Now.”

“Oh, well, thank you!” Aziraphale says. 

“Rest Here Until You Are Stronger And Then You Can Go.”

Aziraphale looks up into Her heavenly light. It stings, like always, but he knows that’s just how She is. The fault is in him, of course. 

But he is content to bask in her glory, knowing that this is his purpose and his place. 

* * *

* * *

Kokabiel awakens in the deepest pits of Hell. His wings are broken, or so it feels, and he retracts them into himself as best he can. Every bit of him feels sick. 

He tries to remember how he got here; God giving him an ultimatum, no real choice. 

Everything in his brain is a hazy blur. The sterility of heaven, the bright happiness of coaxing stars into existence. It's not clear, just scraps of thoughts and feeling. 

And a face. 

Round and handsome, framed by curls, pressed against him. A feeling of joy. Of safety. 

He can't quite get all the details of the face of this handsome angel, but he focuses on trying to pull more details so he can avoid focusing on the pain searing through him. 

And then he wonders: did the angel suffer the same fate that he did? Is the angel here with him? Is the angel hurting like he is?

Kokabiel pulls himself upright, even as his form strains against him, looking at his Fallen companions for any sign of the angel. 

The angels (or, well, demons now, somehow he knows. They’re all demons now.) are all in states similar to his- agonized and confused. The faces are all vaguely familiar- he must have known them in heaven- but they’re not the face of the angel that has his love.

Kokabiel isn’t sure if that is better or worse than the alternative.

Lucifer gives him a new name, Crawly, which he accepts because he doesn’t have much of a choice. It fits his serpentine nature close enough to make it tolerable and going with the flow ingratiates him with his new demonic companions.

Crawly spends much of his free time thinking about the angel, still up in heaven. He tries to remember more of him, but it slips through his mental grasp like so much water. 

Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe Crawly’s love (he can’t love anymore, can he?  _ Can  _ he?) would taint him with a demonic streak. Maybe he ought to just put the angel out of his mind altogether, for his sake. It’s hard to imagine that bright and shining angel down here in the dankness of Hell.

So Crawly forces himself to think of him less and less. To put the angel from his mind entirely. 

It’s better this way, really, he manages to convince himself, ignoring the dull ache in his chest. 

And when Lucifer finally gives him an assignment outside of Hell, lets him leave the dank confines of his unfortunately home, Crawly thinks his fortunes are about to change, just maybe. 

**Author's Note:**

> thnxs to the discord server for making me sad about memory loss w these two, never wouldve come up with this without yall

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] the only heaven i'll be sent to is when i'm alone with you by sartiebodyshots](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24158338) by [TheLordOfLaMancha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLordOfLaMancha/pseuds/TheLordOfLaMancha)


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